Tuesday, October 28, 2014

God ain't dead.

Someone I love was hurt the other day, and it hurts me. The next day, a close colleague lost his beloved grandson, his six-year old namesake, the little boy he was raising as his own child. Another friend is trapped in a situation of abuse and manipulation. While there is tremendous beauty and resilience here in Zambia, the reality of pain and loss is never far away.

It reminds me of a sermon illustration from James DeLoach, "Some time ago I saw a picture of an old burned-out mountain shack. All that remained was the chimney...the charred debris of what had been that family's sole possession. In front of this destroyed home stood an old grandfather-looking man dressed only in his underclothes with a small boy clutching a pair of patched overalls. It was evident that the child was crying. Beneath the picture were the words which the artist felt the old man was speaking to the boy. They were simple words, yet they presented a profound theology and philosophy of life. Those words were, 'Hush child, God ain't dead!'

"That vivid picture of that burned-out mountain shack, that old man, the weeping child, and those words 'God ain't dead' keep returning to my mind. Instead of it being a reminder of the despair of life, it has come to be a reminder of hope. I need reminders that there is hope in this world. In the midst of all of life's troubles and failures, it is a mental picture to remind us that all is not lost as long as God is alive." 

My friends know that God is alive. And so they get up in the morning, they dry their tears, and they continue the work of building God's kingdom on earth. We need our time for weeping, our time for sorrow, but we also need those words like we need air to breathe. Hush, child, God's ain't dead. That is the air I breathe, the hope I have, and the faith I have learned from the people around me. 

I ask you to please pray, for me and my family, for my friends who are in pain, for all those who suffer in unbearable ways. Because God ain't dead, those prayers matter. So thank you, friends. Thank you.

Wednesday, October 15, 2014


We are in the dry season right now, which means we have not seen rain in over six months. Not a drop. The boreholes are drying up, the shallow wells are nonfunctional, and the heat is extreme. October and November are the hottest months of the year, and we certainly don’t live in a land of air conditioning.

Last week, I was sick for awhile. In the middle of the night, I woke up, sweaty and nauseous, my mouth dry, my body screaming for water. I went into the kitchen, but the tap was off, as usual. I walked towards our reserve water buckets. They were empty; Joel had bathed the children, and there was no water to refill our supply. I looked for a half empty glass, scoured the fridge for a forgotten sip in a bottle, but with no luck. There was not a drop of water in the house - no clean water, no dirty water, no water at all. My mouth tasted like sandpaper, and my stomach continued to churn. But there was nothing to do; I decided to try my best to sleep. I knew that I would be able to get water in the morning.

But there are a lot of people who can’t just get water the next morning. A lot of people who wait and wait for rain to come. A lot of people who pray that the borehole does not dry up. A lot of people who weep as their shallow wells become empty holes. I was sick, and I could not get any water, anywhere. But I knew water would come in the morning. Others are sick, and they cannot get any water, anywhere. And they don’t know when water will come. 

No matter where I live in the world, I hope I never forget the frustration, and sometimes desperation, that I feel when I turn on the tap and nothing comes out. I hope I never forget the feeling in my body, when I want water desperately, and I simply can’t find any. I hope I never forget how hot and dirty and sweaty and sticky and tired and nauseous and weak and sad and dried up it can feel, when the water does not come. I hope I never forget these things, especially if I end up living in a place where long, hot showers are always possible, where the water that flows from the faucet is cold and clean and abundant. 

The dry season will end in a few months. Because of climate change, it lasts longer now than it did five years ago. Less rain, fewer crops, drier land. But the rain will come, and the wells will fill again, and after seven months of parched bodies, parched mouths, parched crops, water will flow again. 

There is always hope, always possibility, always promise. The rain will come. But in the waiting, in the parched land and parched lives that stretch on and on, there is pain, there is suffering, there is death. For most people here don’t have the privilege we have; most people here cannot just buy water when their supply runs out. 

And so we must do something, those of us who come from places where water is wasted and taken for granted. People like me, who lived in Michigan, the land of lakes. We must try to imagine a thirst that is so deep and powerful and all consuming, that we are desperate, absolutely desperate, for just a sip of water. Then we must transform that thirst into a thirst for justice, into our own thirst, a desperate need for a world where there is enough for all. And through that thirst, through that need, through that desperation on behalf of our sisters and brothers, we do something. We fight. For water, for food, for justice. We shout the words of our faith, "But let justice roll down like water, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream." (Amos 5:24)

Below are links to two wonderful organizations, working to make sure that justice rolls down like water. The first is our organization, CCAP Zambia, and offers an opportunity to contribute to our Protected Water Department. The second is Church World Service, and you can purchase jerry cans, wells, filters, water pumps, and other items, to bring water to those who are thirsty. Finally, you can take action on climate change, which is causing tremendous pain for the most vulnerable, thirsty people in the world. The link at the bottom of the page will lead you to a petition and an action page.

As I write these words, I am thirsty. And although our water is currently off, we have some reserved in buckets in our kitchen, and I can drink until I am satisfied. There are too many people who do not have this privilege. So, let’s work together to create the kingdom, friends. Let justice roll down like water. Amen.    

Church of Central Africa Presbyterian, Synod of Zambia: Protected Water Department

Church World Service: The Gift of Water

Church World Service: Sign the petition and pledge to take action on climate change